A Primordial's Child
by SwiftFlight9991
Summary: My name is Mitchell Roark, I'm ten years old. I lived in an Orphanage, Foster's Orphanage, ever since I was brought there at the age of 1. Now things are happening, things that confuse and terrify me, and all I have to guide me are strange whispers, murderous plants and an unorthodox camp, Camp Half-Blood. My new home. Where we fight monsters. I should have just gotten eaten.
1. Chapter 1: 10 year old Birdfeed

Hello guys, thanks for checking this out. I suddenly got really into this idea after re-reading the Percy Jackson series for the 182737383847th time.

I'm going to write this as if it was an actual book, by chapter. The chapters will be about the length of a regular, booky-chapter. Also, it will follow start around The Lighting Thief's timeframe.

Brief overview; There's a demigod boy, another demigod boy, a demigod girl, and a bunch of other demigod boys and girls. Hope that helped with your questions^~^

Disclaimer; This is a pretty popular series, and a lot of people have written stories, maybe even some similar to this one(more than likely), so I just want to clarify that this was my own idea. I researched my own chosen god-goddess parent and I stuck to the descriptive, 1st person narrative the original series used. I have not actively stolen ideas from anyone else.

I'm open to suggestions for original characters to include, monsters to fight, and any and all critiques you may have through private messaging. Thanks!

* * *

I spent my 10th birthday with a human-faced pigeon.

The day had started as normal as usual; I woke to screaming, dressed while kids had crayon wars around me, and brushed my teeth while avoiding spurts of projectile paste. Unfortunately, some still managed to *splurt* into my messy chestnut hair.

I should mention that I live in an orphanage in Texas. Also, my name is Mitchell Roark, an orphan. You probably already guessed that though.

The orphanage is known as "Fosters' Orphanage". Well, maybe not 'known'. El Paso wasn't exactly a hot spot in Texas, let alone a run down orphanage.

Oh yeah. Everyone here is insane. Totally crazy, except Ms. Celaeno. Myself, I'm not so crazy as just being ADHD. And dyslexic. And introverted. You get it.

Treading expertly down the mangled staircase, of which about half the steps were splintered or missing entirely, I maneuvered around Ed(a 6 year old cannibal), Marshall(a 13 year old serial killer), and Lucy(16, resident bully of Fosters').

I had just made it past Lucy when she tripped me, sending me tumbling down the remaining few stairs.

"Watch it, pipsqueak," she called. Huffing away dust and strewn paper shreds, I stood up, turned, and hurled a loose stair-plank at Lucy's back.

It shouldn't have even got close, but just as it reached a step feet below, I imagined that vines suddenly sprouted from the stairs and caught her ankle. They were gone just as quick, leaving Lucy to bang her chin against the next step.

I turned tail and ran before she realized i had somehow caused her fall.

'What even was that,' I thought to myself. 'She must've just caught her foot,' I decided.

The rest of the Orphanage mirrored the stairs, unfortunately. Walls had missing sections, giant holes and faded paint that cracked freely. The ceiling sagged with mold, and looked ready to collapse any moment. The floor was missing boards, leaving sinkholes to the basement.

No one went into the basement. Ever.

"Mitchell!" A voice calls, coming from the kitchen. I entered to find the caretaker, Ms. Celaeno, busy with a rusty knife and almost spoiled fruit, mixing a fruit salad.

She was a young-ish woman, around 25, with a sharp, hawklike face and short, choppy brown hair. It sometimes reminded me of feathers, like she adorned them in her hair. She wore an apron that read "Kiss the Cluck", which I never understood.

"Yes, Ms. Celaeno?" I thought she might ask me to help prepare breakfast, like she usually did. I discovered I had a small talent for cooking, so I helped the caretaker quite often.

"Will you get the grapes from the fridge?" She asks. "I think we'll have Grape juice and citrus parfait for breakfast, to celebrate your birthday. Ten years old, right?"

I gave a polite 'yes ma'am' and took the grapes from the rusted fridge. Opening it was a struggle, but I always felt strong when I did.

"Got 'em," I say, bringing them to the faulty blender. We called it grape juice, but it was really more of a light grape smoothie, as we didn't have the tools to squeeze them.

"Annnd, done!" Ms. Celaeno exclaims, in her usual excitable way. Lucy appeared in the kitchen then, heading straight for the fridge. She opened it easily, and my pride from doing so earlier drained in an instant.

Ms. Celaeno made a 'cluck' sound with her tongue, staring intently at the bully.

"Now Lucy, no snacks before breakfast. I'm almost done, go into the hall and wait." Lucy looked like she was about to snap at her, but instead she suddenly turned and stiffly walked away.

Ms. Celaeno nodded in satisfaction, finishing up the bouquet of fruit. She told me to set the table, so I collected the chipped plates and dull silverware, carrying them to the long, warped table.

Were those twigs on the legs? I blinked, and they were gone. Weird.

I finished the table set, and after Ms. Celaeno placed the food and drinks, she called the horde to the table.

Ed raced in, but was shoved aside by Lucy, followed by Marshall and a pack of other clambering, biting and ravenous orphans.

The seats were filled in a rush, and was it my imagination, or were there some empty? I shook my head, everyone was there. Ed, Lucy, Marshall, Sarah, Kevin, James, Lucas, Brady, Cheyenne, Hannibal(yes, he bites too)...

There were more, weren't there? No. I was just confusing myself.

Before anyone dug in, Ms. Celaeno cleared her throat, silencing the table.

"Everyone," she started," today is Mitchell's birthday. He's finally turning 10!" She announced happily. The rest of the children shrugged, or just muttered 'happy birthday Mitch' under their breath. Then we were allowed to dig in.

We ate, cleared the table in sync, and headed outside to the dismal environment of El Passo; hot, barren and yellow. Broken play ground utilities littered the surrounding field.

In the distance, a town sat cloaked in waves of heat.

"Enjoy your break, children!" Ms. Celaeno said, unleashing the orphans upon each other.

Ed sat atop the monkey bars, reenacting the lion king with Kevin, who was struggling to hold onto the bars while Ed kicked his fingers.

Lucy and Marshall had cornered a few other littles at the metal, molten slide. They liked to bully snacks out of the younger kids.

Hannibal sat alone on the sole swing, held aloft by chain and rope alike. He stared intently at me, which wasn't out of the norm.

I walked to my favorite spot; a single, uneven bench around the side of the orphanage. I liked being away from the terrors I lived with.

"Mitchell? Are you here?" Ms. Celaeno's head poked around the corner, and she smiled brightly upon seeing me. Ever since I was brought here 9 years ago, she had seemed to favor me.

I absolutely loved Mrs. Foster...no, wait...Ms. Celaeno. For an instant, her young face was replaced by an older, more gray and weathered face. It was gone the next instant.

'What was that? I can't remember what it was...I guess it's nothing,' I reassured myself.

"I'd like to ask you a question, Mitchell." I simply nodded at her smiling face; this wasn't the first time she'd started a conversation like this. "Do you have anything you'd like to tell me about Lucy? I know she gives you trouble, you avoid her like the plague," she says, prompting me.

She had done this a few times before, like with Rodney, a-

Who was Rodney? I shook my head, and shrugged to the kindly woman.

"She bullies the other kids too, just not when you're around. She knocked me down the stairs this morning," I tell her. Her eyes crinkle in what I take for concern, her lips pursed.

"Did you retaliate, Mitchell?" She questions. I stared at her for a moment, thinking it was odd, the tone she had used. It sounded almost...expectant. Excited.

"I-I threw a loose stair plank..," I confess, head downcast. Her fingers brush my chin as she raises my eyes to hers.

"Did it feel good to hit her?" I feel confused with her questions now, but I shake my head.

"No," I say, and she frowns a little, as if disappointed. "But," slipped out before I could stop it.

"Yes?" Ms. Celaeno asks. I think back to the vines that grabbed Lucy's ankle.

"I thought I saw...something grab her ankle. She tripped and hit her chin." I await a rebuttal, for her to say I had simply imagined it. Instead...

"Remarkable boy," she says fondly. "You're finally ripening." She strokes my hair tenderly, but her yellowing eyes seem wrong. Hungry.

 _Dangerous_.

But that can't be. I've known her since...when did she get here? She got here right after I turned 9...no, that wasn't right. She'd been here long before I was. She'd always been here, but she'd only gotten here after my 9th birthday...

The older woman's face pops into my mind again, as does the name Mrs. Foster. I remember Celaeno arriving right at 12:57 on my 9th birthday. Which seems really weird, cause I miss was born at exactly 12:57. The next day, Ms. Celaeno took over for the retired Mrs. Foster, who had left without a goodbye.

I remember because Cody and Luca had cried their eyes out...where were they? Maurice? Jenny? Chris?

"Mitchell?"

My eyes focus back on Celaeno, who suddenly made me extremely uncomfortable. Then her face started to morph.

I yelped aloud at what I saw.

Her eyes were definitely a harsh shade of yellow, glaring ravenously into my own amber eyes. Her birdlike features became more pronounced. The feathers in her hair became her actual hair, her hawkish face even more angular and bird like. Her arms compacted, thinned to skeletal width, then began to sprout feathers themselves.

Her teeth, always on display in welcome, now indicated a different sort of 'pleased to see you vibe', sharpening to grotesque points.

I threw myself backwards off the bench, just as her head snapped forward and chomped the air where my neck had been.

"Ms. Celaeno?" I say, terrified beyond belief.

"Oh my dear Mitchell, you look delightfully panicked!" She squawked. Her arms stretch and unfurl her wings, before she hopped the distance I had been crawling in a single leap, feet now wicked talons directed to slice my stomach open.

"Aaaaaahhhh!" I scream, scrambling away and to my feet. I sprinted as fast as I could to the playground. Maybe I could hide behind the slide?

Too late, i thought as I felt Ms. Celaeno's talons clutch my shoulder, agony overtaking my body as her claws embedded themselves deep.

"GYAAAHHHHH," I screamed at the top of my lungs, before I felt an even more painful sensation. She was pulling me into the air, and it HURT.

The children now several yards below seemed completely oblivious to my peril, and my screams. This is a truly awful birthday, I manage to decide through the haze of pain.

"They won't help you, little Half-Blood!" She sets down atop the Orphanage, throwing me onto my back. "You're tasty flesh is mine! I have waited too long to let you get away!" Her foot moves from my shoulder to my chest, her "kiss the cluck" apron on display, pinning me as she lowered her fangs towards my neck. I tried to shove her foot. It didn't budge.

She was strong, way too strong, it felt like trying to move a steel slab as I struggled in vain.

My vision began to fade from the pain, my shoulder, and now chest, hurt so much! The last thing I saw was my caretaker-turned-monster/murderer lunging for my throat.

'Worst Birthday Ever', I decide once more before I black out.

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Thanks for reading, and if you liked it, please favorite, follow and review if you'd like more! I'll try to update as often as possible! Again, I take suggestions and critiques of any kind!


	2. Chapter 2: New York a la Gore

Hello again, welcome to another chapter of A Primordial's Child!

I wanna give a quick thanks to Bullotho000 and Codex6765 for following and favoriting! I'm glad I could interest you in reading more!

To everyone else, please enjoy, favorite follow and review!

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, it was dark out.

I sat up, wondering briefly why my shoulder ached so much. Oh, yeah. The pigeon thingy. It tried to eat me.

I quickly scrambled around, looking for the aforementioned killer bird-lady, when my eyes landed on something equal parts strange and horrifying. Creeping vines, which had before decorated the house, now coiled tightly around my restrained attacker.

She snapped, tore and squawked around in their grasp, but she was secured tightly to the rustic chimney.

"You!," she screeched, her glowing eyes promising murder. "I'll get you, I'll bite your throat out! You're little tricks won't stop me!"

I crawled slowly back, no quite sure about how long those vines would hold up. I winced when my back met the rail, and looked down over the edge.

The kids were no where to be seen, and I couldn't hear anything from inside either.

None of this was making any sense.

"Bird Lady!" I call, cutting off another string of curses in some weird language. "What the heck are you? Where is everyone!"

"I am a Harpy, delicious morsel, and I'm going to gobble you up like a snack! * _ **squawk**_ *!" Her struggling renewed, the vines beginning to stretch thin.

I was running out of time.

I looked over the edge once more, observing the creeping vines that snaked up the building. Maybe...

I struggled to my feet, barely keeping myself from blacking out again. God, it hurt! I slowly, gingerly threw a leg over the rail, then another, clutching the rungs for dear life.

I drew a shaky breath, gathering whatever courage I had. "Here we go," I whisper, then begin my unsteady, arduous descent.

It was slow going, especially considering I could only use one arm. Above, I could hear the sharp *snap* of a vine, quickly followed by more resounding ' _ **snap snap'**_ s.

'Maybe I should speed this along,' I thought, only slightly beginning to panic.

I was passing down the second floor when I heard a sudden, final **_snap_** followed by a screech of triumph.

The pigeon demon was free!

I looked to the ground ten feet below, then back up, where the Harpy's head peered down at me. She was smiling delightedly, her fangs showcasing an evil grin.

I did what seemed like the best possible option at the time; I threw up Lucy's favorite hand sign with my afflicted hand, blood dribbling back down my arm, and let go of the vines.

 _ **thump**_

I landed with an " ** _oof_** ", recovering from having the wind knocked out of me. Above me, the harpy was slinking down the vines, her left wing curled gingerly at her side.

"I'm coming to get you, little Demigod treat! I'll snatch you up like those other little morsels, except you will be much more delicious!"

Well, on the bright side, she couldn't fly!

I turned tail and hobbled away as fast as possible, which, if you've never had to hobble before, wasn't that fast.

"You'll have to catch me first!," I taunt. I hear footsteps...talon steps? Pattering? What would it be?

It gets a lot closer, and suddenly I stop caring about what it is. I just wanted to outrun it!

In the distance, El Paso wavered like a mirage, but I knew it was there. I could get help, I just had to make it across a mini-desert. With a torn shoulder. And a monstrous Grackle in pursuit.

I hate my life.

She catches up to me, still too far from help, and drags me roughly to the ground. In desperation, I launch a kick to her wounded wing, eliciting a terrible, ear splitting screech.

She lets go, clutching her wing, and I take the opportunity to stumble towards a clump of cacti. Maybe I could stay out of her reach with pointy things every 3 inches.

Maneuvering to the center of the patch, I turn to face the once again pursuing Harpy.

"If you want me that bad, come get me in here!" I taint. She stamps her claw, before carefully hopping her way towards me. She didn't seem to be having any trouble, and now I was realizing I had trapped myself.

This was it for me. She was going to catch me and eat me! On my BIRTHDAY!

Not cool! I feel anger welling up inside me, numbing the pain in my shoulder. I stood tall, all 4'5 feet of me, and faced down my approaching doom in defiance.

"You finally give up!," she cried delightedly, excitedly moving forward. "You're ready to become my meal, troublesome little brat!"

"I'M NOT GETTING EATEN BY SOME DANG BIRD DEMON ON MY BIRTHDAY!," I roar. Around us, the cacti stalks begin to quiver, animating and aligning their arms around as if alive. I feel a tugging sensation spread my stomach, then throughout my body, a ringing in my ears.

I could only stare in disbelief as an army of thorny green plants dog piled the alarmed Ms. Celaeno, who screeched, squawked and screamed aloud in pain.

"This can't be! I'm the most famous of all my sisters! I can't be killed by some puny demigod and his cactus!" Her voice is muffled as the murderous cacti buried her, until oddly enough, a plume of golden dust billowed from under the pile.

The previously murderous cactus collapsed to the ground, once more only plants, and the monster was nowhere to be seen. Only a small pile of golden dust.

"That was..." I collapse before I can finish, utterly exhausted and feeling the burning of my shoulder once again.

Yet, despite the fatigue and pain, I manage to struggle to my feet, and shuffle out of the patch to the town once more.

As I stumble along, I hear a faint shift in the wind. A voice, barely a whisper, reached my ears as the wind buffeted my battered body.

"Find me, child..." Find who? My body is too tired to formulate the question audibly. However, the voice seemed to read my mind.

"I am who you have always waited for. Who you have strained to remember since you were only young." My mind restarts, the distinctly feminine voice, brushing against my ears like a gentle breeze, and my thoughts focus on the single greatest question of my life.

Who are my parents?

"You know who I am, though not my name. Seek me, Mitchell. I await you..." The whisper faded to nothing, and the wind disappeared as though it had never been.

'Who was that...?'

My last vestiges of strength leave me as I reached the outskirts of the town, and I collapse face first into the dirt.

I hear footsteps as my sight blurs.

I'd never had a dream that felt so real you could SMELL, like, actually smell things.

Like dead bodies. It wasn't great.

I had thought I had awoken to a post-apocalyptic wasteland of horror. It was some city, huge and once grand, maybe New York, now laid to waste. The sky was a red haze, which bathed the city in a bloody tone. Buildings crumbled, craters ruined the landscape, cars flamed and everywhere, bodies littered the ground.

Some of those bodies were...bizarre. As I walked through the carnage, I saw not only humans, but bodies of half-human, half-horse monsters. Centaurs, I vaguely recall. Also, giant humanoid things with a singular eye, or several arms, or several heads.

Rounding a street corner, I came across the grizzly last stand of two fallen humans against a small army of monsters. Those monsters weren't all dead though.

I immediately ducked back in terror, peeking around to observe the scene.

"Humans dead?," a giant questioned. Next to him, a woman with the lower body of two snake tails slithered toward, jabbing the downed boy with her spear. He didn't move.

"It ssseeeemssss sssooooo," she confirmed. Next to her, I recognized a recent phobia of mine; Harpy. And she looked exactly like Ms. Celaeno, post Alfred Hitchcock transformation.

"It took many monsters to kill these two," she squawked in annoyance. "Lord -"

"Mitchell," a voice said directly behind me, startling a yelp from me. Behind me, a hauntingly beautiful woman wrapped in a celestial aura hovered slightly off the ground, staring at me.

She had flowing brunette hair adorned by a silver wreath, and beautiful glowing amber eyes. Her face was the most perfect visage I had ever seen, and the white dress she wore gave her the appearance of a Holy Spirit.

"I am a goddess, child," she chided, a hint of amusement in her tone. Had she just read my mind?

"W-who are y-you?" I stammer. She smiles softly, in fondness, spreading her arms as if to offer a gigantic hug.

"I am Phusis, the first Goddess of Nature, among the first, the Primordials," she proclaimed, and I couldn't help but believe her. Nothing could come close to this...goddess...

"Am I dead?" I ask. This certainly seemed like Hell. She chuckles, the sound like wind chimes, delightful and ringing.

"No, dear one, you are not dead. And no, this is not Hell. I am afraid that Hades would be a sight better than this." Phusis sounded sad as she said it, and I suddenly wanted to give the Goddess a hug.

"What is this?" I didn't understand what was happening, any of it.

"This is my gift to you, a vision of a possible future." She swept her hand out, indicating the vast destruction and death. "This is what is to come, if all should fail."

"If what should fail?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. I expected her to get annoyed, but she kept her smile and simply tilted her head. I had the feeling she was scrutinizing me.

"If all those chosen do not succeed in their purpose." Were all goddesses so vague? She must have read my mind again, because she giggled sweetly. "I am afraid so, but it is as it must be. Knowledge can be dangerous, even if it could be used to help."

"Why are you showing me this?" My ten year old mind was spinning, trying to comprehend, but I still couldn't help but wonder...why me?

"Why do you see things? Why were you attacked? Why does the world suddenly seem to have a secret side to it that you never realized?" I nod my head. "Because, Mitchell Roark, you are special. More so than you, or anyone else, will realize for a long time." Only more questions form, and barely any answers.

"But why me?" She sighs, tiredly, and I'm suddenly nervous that I pried too much.

"Because you are chosen, my child. You will help decide the outcome of the future."

Whatever I had expected, whatever horrific fate I had in store, none prepared me for that mind blowing truth.

I was gonna decide the fate of the world?! This should go down in history as the worst birthday that ever birthday'ed!

"C-hosen...m-me? But why? What makes me so special?!" I ask, half shouting in desperate need of clarity. Her form suddenly begins to fade, and the city around me loses focus.

Before I once again see only blackness, Phusis' last words reach me.

"Because the child of a Primordial holds the power to save everything."

"M-mother...?" I murmur, unable to speak properly.

Consciousness deserts me, and oblivion takes ahold.

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I liked writing the dream prophecy sequence. Also, I didn't really know how else to introduce Mitchell's godly parent. This sets a plot and establishes parentage. Primordial parentage. Prime primordial parentage.

Im sorry, off track. Once again, please follow favorite and review if you wish, any and all requests and criticisms are welcome!


	3. Chapter 3: Train Rides and Pink Cowboys

Hello again, guys! Welcome to a new chapter of A Primordial's Child, and thank you for reading this far!

Really quick, I'd like to give a few shoutouts.

Thanks to rock legend 166, claireorr, WeHaveIssues, Profile Terminated, Syndirr, Glassheart691115, MagicTalefrisk, and Brittany Foos for favoriting and following!

Special Thanks to We Have Issues, Profile Terminated and Glassheart691115 for giving the first few reviews!

Im glad you've all enjoyed my story so far! And now, for the third chapter; Train Rides and Pink Cowboys.

* * *

I almost forgot I had a dream entirely when the first thing I saw was Woody from Toy Story standing over me.

More like a knock-off Woody from one of those bootleg films. He had a moth-eaten Stetson, a muddy leather vest, a hideous lasso patterned button up, and a paper cut out of a sheriffs badge.

His navy wrangler jeans were covered by chaps, and his red white and blue cowboy boots had comically large spurs that jangled incessantly.

I realized I was in someone's room after I shook myself a bit.

It was practically barren, with only one shattered window. The walls were cracked, and after I shifted and almost impaled myself on something sharp, I discovered the bed didn't even have a mattress, only a rumpled pillow and a moldy baby blanket.

"You alright, partner?," the odd western weirdo asked, concern and relief mixing in his chocolate brown eyes. I nodded, but had to stifle a groan when I tried to sit up. A pained "ooooooh" still escaped me.

The cowboy immediately eased me back down, telling me I should take it easy.

'After the birthday I've had, that's the worst thing you could say,' I wanted to snap, but decided to simply do as he said.

"Reckon the last thing you'd wanna do is open one of them stitches, now isn't it?," he chided. "My name is Salvador, by the way. Jackson Salvador."

Was it just me, or did this cowboy seem phony, name and style alike?

"Mitchell," I mutter, turning my head to the window. It snapped back a second later when I heard;

"Yea, shoot, I already done know that much, Mitchell Roark." I stared wide eyed, instantly on guard and more than a little creeped out.

"How'd you know my name?," I demand, very afraid of another evil grackle wanting to devour me.

He looks alarmed for a moment, as though he'd realized he wasn't supposed to say something.

"Ya just told me, didn't ya?" He laughed nervously, taking Stetson in hand and...

Did he just EAT his hat?

"Who are you! Are you another stupid... Harpy?!" The decidedly posing cowboy takes a hurried step back, waving his newly damaged hat back and forth.

"Now, now, no need to panic! Not gonna try nuthin', honest! Let me just explain!" I didn't trust 'Jackson Salvador', but I desperately needed an explanation. I nod, and he takes a deep breath, his spurs still whirring from the excitement.

"I guess I should start with introductions. Jackson Salvador is not my real name." No duh. "My real name is Klove Greenhorn. I'm not a cowboy...I'm a satyr." A what?

I let out a yelp, scrambling to the wall as he suddenly started to remove his tacky boots, followed by the chaps and wranglers. In their place, instead of smooth tanned skin, was...

Fur. He had furry legs. With hooves. What?

"Y-your legs are like a donkeys!" I yell, and he lets out an indignant 'hey'!

"They are GOAT legs!" He corrects, annoyed. His leg twitched like it was ready to leave a cloven shaped indent around my eye. "Satyrs are half goat, not donkey! Or horse! Or sheep! It's not that hard man!"

His previously cringeworthy western 'accent' had shifted to a New Yorker's accent, like in those movies Ms. Foster took us to, as his rant progressed. Was anything about this 'satyr' authentic? Aside from the decidedly goat-like legs?

Were those even real? I didn't know. My caretaker was a Harpy, cowboys were from New York and had goat legs. What else?

"Also, and this is the explanation for the legs, have you ever heard of the Greek gods and goddesses?" He looked ready to catch me in case I faint, but I was ready to kick him and run. Still, I shook my head. "Well," he began disappointedly, shaking his head, "there are Greek gods and goddesses. And they exist. They're real."

My dream pops into mind.

"Like Phusis?" I didn't know how he expected me to respond, but apparently that was not it. His eyebrows shot to his curly hair, his bushy eyebrows cinched together and his eyes bugging in total surprise.

"H-how do you know that name!" He stutters and rambles unintelligibly to himself. I couldn't catch anything other than "clueless", "primordial" and "Stetson in my teeth".

"I had a dream," I tell him. "Right after Mrs. Celaeno attacked me." Whatever blood he had in his face, drained him from tan to corpse pale.

"Celaeno? W-as she a-a ha-harpy by ch-chance?" I figured I'd have to catch him, as he looked ready to faint any moment himself.

"Yeah, that evil pigeon lady tried to eat me."

On my birthday. I was pretty sure I'd be bitter about that for a long time.

"How did you even survive!" He half-shouted, half-whimpered.

"Well, Mrs. Celae-"

"Don't say her name!" He interrupted, looking even more terrified than before, and very paranoid. His eyes shifted from the single hinge door to the shattered window.

"O-okay," I continue, "She was chasing me, but I managed to get to a patch of big cactus." He nodded impatiently, waving his hand for me to keep going.

"Well, she trapped me, but right before she could get me, the cactus came to life and dog-piled her. She died, and I guess she turned to dust. That's all that was left. Then I passed out."

"You defeated," he began, yet his tone seemed way to calm now, considering his previous expression, "the most dangerous of all Harpies," his voice was rising, "with a bunch of cactus! How does that even happen!"

Yep, he was hysterical now.

"I didn't do it!" How could I have taken control over cactus? That didn't make sense! He stopped his raving to turn back to me, then cleared his throat to regain his composure.

"That brings me to the other part. As I was saying, Greek gods and goddesses are real. That means all monsters and heroes from the old stories are real as well. Like...the evil pigeon lady. We call monsters kindly ones," he explained, though it didn't make sense to me. They didn't really seem all that 'kind'.

"Those heroes were, as it happens, the direct children of the gods. Or, should I say, children of a singular god who took a mortal as a bride."

"What does that have to do with me?" Seriously, I wished that when you got older things made more sense. It seemed the opposite was true more and more.

"Everything, Mitchell Roark. For you see, the reason I know your name, why I found you, why I'm explaining all this to you, heck, even why those cactus suddenly came to life and saved you," he paused to take a breath, or build suspense. Either way, it worked.

"You are a demigod. The child of a god and a mortal."

...

What? 

"What?" I asked aloud, as it didn't fully register what this strange goat man said.

"A demigod," he repeated. "You have a godly parent." Like that cleared anything up!

"So wait!," I yelled, and his attention was undivided as I thought how to phrase my next question. "So...I have a regular human parent, and...a godly parent? Who?"

To this, Klove shrugged causally, and in early face faulted in disbelief.

"You don't know!?" I yelled. How could he know I was a 'demigod', but not who my godly parent was!

"Those things aren't clear. Only the fact that you are a demigod. That's only because of your scent, though."

Huh?

"Whatcha mean scent? I took a bath this morning." I must not have understood right, because he laughed aloud.

"Not like that, Mitch."

"Don't call me that," I say, though he ignores me.

"It's another kind of scent, one that only monsters and beings like me can smell. It's the godly blood in your veins that identifies you." So that's why Mrs. Celaeno was after me?

"Sooo...if you can smell me, and Mrs. Cel- I mean, the kindly one could smell me, what's to stop another monster from finding me?"

He looked like he was about to respond, but he froze mid-pucker. His eyes dawned in realization, and suddenly he shifted, extremely nervous.

"Is something wrong?" I ask. He was making me uneasy too.

"We have to go," he blurts out, scooping me in a flurry of limbs, kicks, 'what are you doing!' and 'baaaaaahhhs', then rushes for the door.

As we race down the hall, I hear the sound of a wall crumbling down, and the entire house shook. A voice boomed out behind us.

"Satyr and Demigod! We shall eat well tonight!" A series of equally thunderous jeers chorused, and a cold dread settled in my stomach.

"What's happening!," I yell at Klove, but he ignores me. I look up over his shoulder, wincing as little, and see a monstrous head peek from the hall as we dashed through the front door.

It was grotesquely sculpted, with a protruding chin, and broad jaw, an equally thick neck and a bulging forehead. On top of his head sat a troll-doll patch of greasy, flaxen filthy orange hair. It's skin was almost cherry red.

"I see the food! It's running outside!" It called to its friends.

As we ran flat out across the small town to what looked to be a 1930's western train station, a trio of similarly ugly giants lumbered from around the house, giving chase. These ones wore cowboy knockoff suits worse than Klove's.

"Come back, food! We shall eat you if you do!" One offered.

"Thanks, but no thanks! I'd rather keep running!," I yell back. What kind of deal was that?

The train station was getting closer, but so were the gargantuan footfalls of the monsters behind us.

"Hurry up Klove!" He doesn't seem to acknowledge me, but the urgency in his eyes increased tenfold.

"Shut up, Mitchell, I'm going as fast as I can!" He's panting heavily by this point, and the station was still a good distance away. "You are one heavy 9 year old!"

"I'm ten!" I correct, but he doesn't care. He's too focused on reaching the station, and looking around and seeing the ever closing giants, I can't really blame him.

We were coming up on the train station, and as Klove hopped onto the platform, I just about screamed. A giant had taken a swipe at my head, having caught up. His cowboy suit was an obnoxious pink, as was his hair, but his teeth looked almost black with decay.

That explained the rank breath.

"KLOVE!" I shout, and he curses in the same language as Celaeno had. This time, I could understand a little of what he said, and my ears turned red.

You were NOT allowed to say things like that in front of a child, I was pretty confident.

"The train!" He yells, running to the edge of the platform.

The train blared past as the pink cowboy giant lunged, and Klove took one quick breath before leaping off the platform.

Time seemed to slow for a split second, the wind whistling deafeningly in my ears. I held Klove for dear life, and watched with eyes wide as saucer the the fingers of doom closed merely centimeters from my nose.

Then it was over, and we collided with a collective 'oof' as the force of impact threw us apart. We had jumped into an open car.

I groaned, and somewhere to my left so did Klove, though with a bleat at the end. He cursed a bit more, and I briefly considered forcing soap into his mouth.

Too much energy, I decided.

With great effort, I rolled to my side, and my entire body protested by popping literally every bone in my torso and neck.

"Ooooowwww," I moan. Sitting up slowly, I look around the car to find it empty, save for a single mound of sacks in the far corner. Klove is in the corner left of me, head at an awkward angle against the wall.

His furry hindquarters hung in the air.

"Klove?" I call. No answer, except another unconscious groan.

"Well, that's just great," I grumble under my breath. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"I would try New York, Mitchell," the sacks in the corner suddenly speak up, startling me to my feet.

Why does everyone know my friggin name!

"Because I know you," the mound of sacks replies.

"Great. A talking sack," I say, my tone dripping as much sarcasm as I can muster. "Why not?"

"More or less. Though, you should still listen, even if i am just a pile of moldy bags."

"That sounds perfectly reasonable." Cause why the heck not at this point? Seriously?

"You doubt me, but that is not important. You must go to New York, demigod. Long Island, more specifically. That's the only place you'll be safe."

"Safe? From the monsters? Really?" That sounded far too good to be true. Snores erupted from Klove's corner, but I tuned them out. Was this sack for real?

"What's in Long Island?" I ask. The sack mound is silent for a moment, and I get the funniest feeling the mound is thinking about its answer.

"Ask the Satyr," it finally says, "when he wakes up. He will explain everything else along the way. This train will take you upstate to New York, but you will have to find the your own way to Long Island and avoid more monsters along the way, to reach safety. Good luck," it says. With that, the sack mound goes silent permanently.

I approached it cautiously. I couldn't read the brand name on them, instead noticing the sacks have a logo of a dapper peanut man, but instead of an umbrella he is holding a sword of some kind, and his top hat is a spartan helmet. His monocle is normal though.

Klove begins to stir in the corner, shuffling around, and I walk to the corner across from him, sitting down and crossing my legs. My hands lay limp in my lap.

"M-Mitchell?" He calls, before his eyes settle blearily on me. "You okay?" I ignore him for a minute or two, his eyes never leaving me.

Finally, I look over at him, and his body language radiates concern. "Is something wrong?" He asks.

"What's in Long Island?"

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was pretty fun to write! Thank you for continuing to follow along! As updates go, I will try and post a new chapter every Saturday!

Please follow, favorite and review if you want to give any suggestions or criticisms of any kind!

Thank you again!


	4. Chapter 4: Grey Taxi Ride to Paradise

Hello guys, thanks for your interest so far in my story! I hope you continue following along, cause I hope to make this better and better with each chapter.

Really quick, I'd like to say thanks to rstbm and AnonymousReader2017 for following and favorite A Primordial's Child!

Please follow favorite and review if you want, and feel free to pm me or comment and suggestions or criticisms. I'm open to anything.

* * *

If you've never been on a train before, here are some pro tips to maximize your experience;

1) Bring a pillow and snacks

2) Have a traveling buddy, you'll get bored

3) Don't talk to the sack pile of peanuts

I felt even more on edge than earlier, and there had been giants and oversized turkeys before.

Klove was nursing a goose egg in his corner, while I sat as far away from the peanuts as possible. Not that I was freaked out or anything.

Never.

Rustling came from Klove's side, and I turned to see him shambling over, cradling his horned head.

"You okay, Mr. Goat?" I asked, but he just groaned.

"It's Klove, and I'm a satyr. Where we goin' anyway?" I realized he hadn't been awake to hear the talking peanuts.

"New York, some place called Long Island," I replied, shrugging. He suddenly looked excited, and relived. Guess he knew the place.

"Camp Half-Blood! Oh man, that's a huge relief! I thought we'd have to fight our way across the country!" He began to do an odd jig, but immediately stopped and doubled over.

"Oooooo, bad idea," he moaned out. I giggled slightly, despite everything overwhelming me. I needed any excuse to laugh right now.

"Hey Klove?," I called.

"What's up," he asked, walking over and slowly sitting down next to me. He wasn't facing me, but his eyes shone with cautious curiosity at me from his peripherals.

"Who is Phusis? You freaked out when I said I had a dream about her. Is she important?" His breathing got heavy, like he might have a panic attack if I said Physis again.

"P-phusis...She was-is,...a-a primordial," he whispered, voice breaking slightly. I didn't know what that meant, so I promoted him.

"What's a Primoral?" I said. He laughed shakily, shaking his head before turning bodily to face me.

"Primordial. It means one of the original godly beings in existence," he explained, utterly serious. "They were here before the titans; ancient, all powerful, and worshiped by all. Until they were forgotten. Phusis was the primordial goddess of nature," he said, his tone no somber.

His face was downcast, eyes beginning to water. These Primordial's must have meant a great deal to satyrs.

"What do you mean, forgotten," I asked.

"People stopped worshipping them, and instead gave tribute and offerings to the titans. When the gods took power, the titans too began to be forgotten. It is a fate equal to death for immortals."

I realized now why he was so freaked I mentioned Phusis. She was a primordial, a forgotten goddess. So why was she speaking to me? Why did it sound as though she had called me her son?

"You said demigods are the children of mortals and gods, right?" Klove nodded, eyes questioning. "So, if the Primordial's were still around, would that mean they could have kids too?," I asked.

The cowboy satyr's eyes widened bit by bit. He snorted suddenly, brushes hair curly hair back and laughing nonchalantly.

"I suppose so," he said causally. "What of it?" His voice was forcefully restrained, but I could tell he was tense.

"In my dream," I began, and his interest returned in full, "Phusis appeared to me in New York, but it was destroyed. There were bodies and monsters everywhere. She said certain only the chosen heroes could save the world."

I looked at Klove, and he was watching me like I was a ticking time bomb.

"A-anything else s-she say?" He stuttered out.

"She said 'the child of a primordial holds the power to change things', or something like that." I took a breath, and I heard Klove do the same.

"Does that mean that Phusis is my godly parent?"

There was dead silence as we stared each other in the eye, before-

"Blaa-aaaa-aaa," Klove bleated, shooting to his feet, swaying, and then collapsing in a heap.

Great, I broke the goat.

A gust of wind rustled through the car, settling around me like an invisible blanket, and the ever more familiar whisper of Phusis ghosted upon my ears.

"He is right to be surprised, Mitchell," She began, my breath hitching. "Many do not realize that though we Primordial's have been forgotten, we shall never fade. Not as the gods and titans and monsters do. We are the first, and we shall be the last."

She sounded resigned as she talked, as though immortality was more a burden than a gift.

"Doesn't that mean you'll live forever? Isn't that a good thing?" I asked. It didn't sound like a bad thing to me. She chuckled, and though I couldn't see her, I could tell she was smiling sweetly, as she had in my dream.

"Yes and no, my child. The Primordial's may not fade, but we do sleep for eons at a time. Whenever we awake, it is because we are to help shape the world's destiny," Phusis explained. I nodded to myself. That didn't sound very fun after all.

Then another question came to me, one I realized I desperately wanted an answer to.

"In my dream, b-before, you said "a child of a Primordial"..." I faltered slightly, but I willed myself to continue. "Am I your son, Phusis?"

The whisper of Phusis was silent, and nothing could be heard but Klove's snores and the wind whistling past the open car.

"All will be revealed soon, Mitchell," she revealed, before the feeling of her lips on my ear faded, and I was left alone with an unconscious satyr.

New York was huge, I thought in amazement. There were so many buildings, almost all of them piercing the sky itself, blotting out the skyline with their own majesty.

Even from the distance, I could hear the noises of a city that was practically alive; cars, thousands of them, blaring around the beating rhythm of millions of footsteps. It only grew more deafening as we approached.

However, with the revelation of just how clustered and loud New York City actually was, came a growing sense of unease.

Where were the trees? The grass? The clouds themselves were a polluted grey, and as it loomed ahead I began to smell what an overcrowded city really was; a giant sewage pit.

Why did I hate this place so suddenly? I was sure I was excited before, now I just felt like stepping into this obnoxiously artificial place would be WRONG.

Thankfully, the train stopped about a mile from a humongous bridge to the city, and Klove and I hopped out of the car. Just before the train rumbled away in a blur, I could swear I heard that creepy sack of medieval peanuts say 'goodbye'.

"Where to now?" I asked. Klove grinned down at me, then nodded toward the bay.

"We're gonna get a cab, Mitch," he answered.

Did he just call me Mitch? And swim? Really?

"I hate that name..." I mutter, but Klove ignores me. "How are we gonna get a cab OUTSIDE the city?" His cocky grin grew wider.

"I have ways," he said mysteriously, before trudging on towards the bridge.

Did EVERYONE have to be so gods-forsaken VAGUE! Was it a Greek thing?

"How?" I asked again, fed up and annoyed.

"You'll see," he repeated. We continued like that for the next mile. Just as we reached the bridge, I asked him for the hundredth time, and Klove reared around, hands flinging up in anger.

"For the love of Pan, SHUT UP!" He yelled. Fuming, he stomped to the bridge, yanked a large golden coin from his pocket and threw it onto the road.

Nothing happened for a few moments, then... the squeal of speeding tires, a blur of grey, and what looked like "TIAX" as a taxi screeched to a halt in front of us.

An ancient, disfigured face peered out of the window, scowling. Where were her eyes?

"Well, get in already, we don't have all day!" A chorus of voices yelled.

Klove snatched open the door, clambering in. I followed, and was greeted by the sight of three very old ladies crammed into the front seat.

"Where to?" One snapped, one bulbous eye peeking out under heavy eyebrows. Klove looked nervously at me, a drastic shift in attitude from before, then turned to the woman.

"Long Island, Connecticut," he said. Then he turned once again to me. "Hope you don't get motion sickness," he warned, before the TIAX sped off like a jet through the city.

"WooooAAAAHHHHH!" I yelled, searching wildly for a seatbelt. Instead of a belt, it seemed this cab had seat chains. Maybe next time.

"Who are these crazy women!" I yelled at Klove, who was clutching, the seat for dear life while chewing earnestly on some ripped out stuffing.

"We're the Grey Sisters," one of the three shouted back. "My name is Anger!" She said.

"Wasp", yelled the one with the single eye.

"I am Tempest," said the driver, an obvious lisp to her voice, "Whose idea was it to go outside our service zone!" They began to bicker between each other.

"It was Anger's idea!" An indignant shout came from Anger. "Was not, it was Wasp's idea!" There was shuffling, the sound of kicking and shoving.

Were they FIGHTING as they drove? I felt my stomach do flips as we drove recklessly in traffic, around corners and through narrow tunnels.

"You two shut up and let me drive!" Tempest screeched. "You always drive!" "Do not, Wasp did last time!" "No, it was Anger!"

They started scuffling again. I could hear Klove's whimpers next to me, the middle seat torn open, stuffing everywhere.

"RIGHT!" Wasp suddenly yelled above the noise, and the car lurched so hard I flew sideways into the window, banging my head.

"Oooo," I moaned. My head felt like it'd been cracked open by a sledgehammer. The noise from up front wasn't making things any better.

Outside, the scenery was a blur of buildings, which gradually changed to the darkness of a tunnel, and then to the flora and fauna of woods. This was definitely not New York Anymore.

Up front, Tempest called out "Long Island stop". We jerked to a stop, and I nearly flew up into the dashboard.

Unsteadily, I clambered out of the car, Klove following suit, before collapsing to the ground.

My knees felt like jelly. I got up, turning to see Klove give the sisters a few more golden coins before they sped off, smoke curling form the tires.

"We are NEVER doing that again, goat-boy," I said. Klove gave me a smug grin, enjoying my discomfort. "Come on, pipsqueak. Camp is this way."

He walked into the woods, and after a few moments I trailed after him.

Before long, we came upon a small clearing, on the other side of which led into a open expanse. A large hill ran up to a single, lonely pine tree.

At the end of a clearing, a grand arch stood, its columns covered in crawling vines. Upon the arch we're engravings, which I somehow understood to be Greek. They read out "Camp Half-Blood".

The safest place in the world for me, according to Klove.

"This is it," he said next to me. "Welcome to your new, monster fighting, dangerous quest taking, combat training home. You'll hate and love it, pipsqueak."

I was slightly annoyed at my new nickname, but more than that I felt anxious. What would I find for myself here? I was both excited and terrified of what I'd find.

I felt the wind shift, and knew that Phusis was present.

"Go, Mitchell, and you will find your destiny," she urged. I smiled. I had my mother to watch over me, and that calmed every tingling nerve.

"Lets go, Mitchell," Klove said, leading me forward under the arch.

At the top of the hill, the pine tree overlooked a vast valley. At the center, an array of cabins sat. Off to the side, a large house stood.

To the other, a forest stretched over a huge distance. I could also see field of strawberries, as well as a lake at the valley's end. All in all, the place looked beautiful, and I could only stare dumbly and try to take it all in.

Everywhere, no matter where I looked, campers milled around in droves. Some were sparring in a practice field, others going about their business at the cabins, and some tending to what looked like stables.

"Are these all...demigods?" I asked. Klove nodded, smiling fondly.

"Yep, every last one. All different kinds too. Each cabin down there is the home of a godly parents children." I nodded, awed, before I realized something odd.

"Why are there only twelve cabins, aren't there more gods than that?" Klove chuckled in response.

"You're pretty quick, Mitch." He ignored my kick to his ankle. "Those cabins represent the twelve Olympians. There isn't enough room in the valley for a cabin dedicated to EVERY SINGLE GOD, that'd be crazy."

With that, he began the descent down the hill. "Follow me, pipsqueak. We've gotta go introduce you to Chiron."

Who? I asked him, and he explained Chiron was the demigods trainer at Camp, as well the mythical legendary trainer of famous heroes.

"Oh, and," he said as we approached the house, the Big House he had called it, "don't freak out when you meet him. He isn't what you'd expect." Well that didn't tell me anything, but I told myself I'd keep my cool.

Unless, you know, he tried to eat me. That seemed to be a recurring problem when I met someone 'new' nowadays.

We entered a living room in which sat a coffee table, a chair and a couch, and a wheel chair inhabited by...no one. Where was the cripple?

I heard clopping sound coming from a side room, maybe a kitchen, and through the hall came...

"Is that a centaur?!" I yelled. I had read Harry Potter, so I knew what a half man and half horse was at least.

The apparent centaur laughed heartily, having been caught off guard by my tiny form shouting loud enough to wake the dead. Tiny compared to him, I mean. I wasn't tiny.

I was big.

The centaur was just bigger. His lower, horse half was a palomino stallion, pure white. His human half was tanned, clothed in a sophisticated sweater and blazed. His face was sculpted, with a scraggly brown beard, and his hair was long and wild.

His eyes shone warmly, but I could see age to them. This man, er, centaur, was old.

"Klove, it seems you have brought a lively one to my camp. Who might you be, young one?" He asked kindly. I looked at Klove, who nodded reassuringly, as though he thought I was scared. I wasn't.

I was buzzing.

"Mitchell," I blurt out before the satyr can say 'Mitch.' "Mitchell Roark. I'm ten."

"Well Mitchell," Chiron says, "welcome to Camo Half-Blood. I hope you survive the time you spend here."

"Wait, what?" I said, Chiron still smiling wide.

Did he just say SURVIVE?

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Once again, Please follow, favorite and review if you'd like! Next chapter will be posted next Saturday on schedule!

Thanks again!


	5. Chapter 5: New Swords And Rainbow Flames

Hello everyone, thank you for following, favoriting, or just checking this story out! I appreciate you taking the time to waste it on me^~^

Special thanks to Rightfully Right and sioban-avayandir for following my story!

I apologize for the late update, and I hope this chapter makes up for it! Please Enjoy 'New Sword and Never-Ending Cider'!

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The more Klove led me around, the more I wondered whether I was dreaming or not. Wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen so far.

Everywhere I turned, kids of different ages milled around in armor, toting deadly weapons like it was nothing un-ordinary.

This was all the picture definition of 'un-ordinary'.

We passed an archery range, a group of campers practicing avidly. One stray arrow soared right past my ear; I almost had a heart attack.

"Sorry!", a camper called, but Klove just laughed and urged us on before I could see who had nearly killed me.

He introduced me to the volcanic rock wall, which spewed ACTUAL lava. Some poor kid was actually climbing the thing, and he didn't seem to be doing too bad either.

These guys were suicidal. Another older camper was sitting nearby, one eyebrow missing and the other sizzling. His face was blackened by ash, but he was grinning madly.

And insane, I added.

"Is every one psychotic here, or just most of em?" I asked Klove, who grinned secretively.

"Just about, kid," he said. "They've gotta train somehow though, and better here than out there against actual monsters." I nodded.

"Makes sense, I guess," I muttered. He ignored me. We entered the strange 'u' shape of the cabins, all of them designed to reflect the nature of their god/goddess. The grandest was like that of an old Greek temple, marbled and columned. Very imposing.

"Zeus?" I asked, pointing to it.

"Yep, right dead center for the king of the gods. Next to his is Hera's, and his brothers Poseidon's." He pointed them out as he said them.

"Where's mine?" Klove scratched his head sheepishly in response, smiling nervously.

"Well, the thing is, these cabins represent the Olympian gods. Your mother..." he tuned his head to and fro, as though he were afraid of someone listening in, then leaned forward with his hand culling his mouth. "Physis, if she really is your mom, does not have a cabin." He leaned back, relaxing somewhat.

"So, if it turns out to be true, you'll be with the Hermes cabin." Why would I stay in another gods' cabin?

I asked Klove, and I thought I saw pity flash through his eyes for a split second. That irritated me.

"Well, for the most part, a lot of them are actual children of Hermes', but there are a few special cases of kids who haven't been claimed. Those kids are bunked with Hermes till there godly parent claims them."

That sounded...crowded. Crowded and humiliating.

"I don't want to be put in there then," I said stubbornly. Klove shook his head.

"Not up to me," he said simply, before heading towards a cabin at the end of the row that looked suspiciously well occupied. "It's still best for you to say hi, cause, like it or not, this'll be your home for now. I'll let Luke take over from there."

Great. Leave the new kid with some stranger. This guy was a great protector.

He knocked, and a moment later the head of a blonde surfer-looking teen poked out.

"Hermes Cabin, how may I help you," he said with a grin, split by a scar, while apparently struggling to keep the door at a crack. Something was trying to pull it open.

"Well, got another one for you Luke. Names Mitch," he introduced, and the guy named Luke turned to me curiously. "He's unclaimed and kinda slow, so take it easy on him."

Luke smiled wide at me, than grunted as the door was jerked open a bit. He let it go suddenly, and an audible *oof* was heard behind the door.

"So Mitch, you're gonna be bunking with me huh? Names Luke, cabin counselor and son of Hermes." That smile was really infectious, cause I grinned back as a smaller boy emerged from the doorway around Luke rubbing his head.

'Friggin jerk' he grumbled as he stalked past.

"Oh don't be a grump, Connor," Luke called, to which Connor gave an over the shoulder glare. Luke turned to me and winked. "He's used to being the trickster."

I nodded, like this was actually important. He smiled wider, his perfect white teeth almost blinding.

"Well newbie, come on in. I'll introduce you to the cabin." He turned, pushing open the door to reveal a jumbled mess of beds, blankets and sleeping bags. Everywhere, clutter was strung about, till the floor was completely covered by stuff.

"Why are there so many?" I asked. Luke looked down for a moment, his smile replaced by a scowl, before his face returned to normal.

"Long story. The short version; the gods aren't always the most responsible, if you know what I mean." I did. Klove had mentioned that gods didn't always claim their children, and so those kids were dumped in the Hermes cabin.

I hoped Phusis claimed me soon, I didn't think there was even a space for me in there.

Luke maneuvered expertly through the maze of people, beds and items, stopping in front of an empty space about 3x3 feet. Cozy. Luke smiled brightly, sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture.

"And here's your bunk, Mitch. Get comfy, and claim the spot quickly. Someone else might want a few more inches." He warned.

I dropped...nothing. I didn't have a single thing with me to unpack. Didn't have a chance to grab anything really.

Luke must've noticed, cause he began rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh yeah, you don't have anything," he chuckled nervously. "Hold up. Anyone have a spare bag for the newbie!?" He yelled to the bustling cabin. A chorus of 'no's', "Connor stole mine. Haha, get it? Stoll?" and "getcher own, punk!" answered.

Thankfully, one kind soul had a spare, and threw it forward. Luke caught it easily, tossing into my spot.

"There, all yours." He said. "Now let's get you a weapon, you'll need it for capture the flag tonight."

His crazed, enthusiastic grin made me very nervous.

"A sword...for capture the flag?" I said slowly. He nodded, grin spreading.

"You'll see Mitchell." With that, he grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the cabin, my flailing arms and feet swatting many disgruntled kids on the way.

He pulled me along to an unassuming, if rather large, shed. It wasn't till he opened it up and pushed me inside that I realized why we were here.

"Oh my god", I gasped. Rows upon rows of swords, knives, spears and other such deadly tools covered every surface. Behind me, Luke clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"Gods, actually, Mitch. Plural." He corrected. He paced down the rows of weapons, picking some up, examining them and glancing at me before shaking his head and putting them back.

Finally, he stopped and pondered over a set of varied blades, each longer than my arm. One I knew was a gladius, which I only recognized from old movies. The rest looked completely different.

He ignored the simple gladius, and opted for a longer, curved sword. It's handle hooked on either end, and from it sprouted a blade that angled inwards towards the middle.

The blade itself was solid bronze, as for most of the handle. The handle was lightly detailed with iron grey, branching designs.

He held it up, swung it closely around a bit, then brought it to me, nodding to himself.

"Try this on for size, pip-squeak." He held it out to me, and I took the cool bronze grip in hand.

"Its heavy," I strained, the sword dipping towards the ground. He laughed, and I felt my face heat up.

"You're just a little puny, Mitch. You'll gain some muscle carrying that sword around." I nodded, though I doubted that heavily.

"What is it?" I asked. It was too heavy to even swing, but it felt right in my hand.

"It's a falchata. Older Greek design, though that's arguable. Not really used anymore, probably wouldn't be recognized by anyone here. It's a good sword though."

I was liking the sword more and more the longer I held it. It's branch design resonated with me. The sword itself felt important to me, more than just a sword.

"Is it special," I asked. It seemed to finely made to be an ordinary sword. Because I'm a sword expert. Obviously.

"Has to be, it's the only one ever found made out of celestial bronze. And those Stygian iron etchings? You won't see that everyday either."

I eyed the sword with newfound appreciation, and held it upright with an unsteady grip.

"Is it mine now?" I would hate to not be able to carry it everywhere with me. I didn't have much else.

Thankfully, Luke smiled, nodding.

"All yours, newbie. Now let's get to the pavilion. It's almost dinner time." As if on cue, a horn blew, which I could only guess summoned everyone to dinner.

Sure enough, after depositing my newfound un-wieldable sword with my bedroll, I emerged to find the entire camp flooding the pavilion, all lined up for supper.

Those at the front took their meals to a roaring brazier, and scraped a portion of it into the flames. The fumes made my mouth water.

"Here's how it works, Mitch. You get your food, offer a portion to your godly parent, or any god really, and then you sit with your cabin. You'll be sitting with me, 'Kay?" I nodded, taking my place in the line.

After finally receiving my plate, and offering a portion of mouthwatering bbq steak to Phusis, I took my seat between Connor and an older looking girl with curly brown hair and chocolate skin.

Connor's grin unnerved me, and his tight hand shake made me wince. He winked, and I had to resist the urge to make sure my belt loop wasn't missing.

The girl seemed nicer, offering a light shake and a kind smile. She was pretty.

"My names Tracy, daughter of Hermes. You're the new kid, right?" I nodded, and she ruffled my hair. "You'll be fine. Mitchell, right?"

"Yeah," I said lamely. She turned to her food, and when I did as well I realized quickly how hungry I actually was.

The steak was delicious, as were the potatoes, chicken legs and rolls.

I licked my lips, and by some sort of dark, wonderful magic, a goblet appeared at my side in the hands of a stunning, ethereal girl. She giggled at my probably stupid expression, before sweeping off.

I took a drink, and then instantly drained it. It tasted exactly like the cider Celaeno had made for Christmas (hey, she may have been a psychotic, killer bird lady, but she made some delicious drinks).

I watched delighted as the goblet refilled itself.

Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all. Free refills and BBQ.

At the end of dinner, Chiron the centaur stood at the edge of the raised platform, clapping his hands and silencing all conversations.

"Tonight," his voice boomed across the pavilion, "we welcome a new camper into our fold! Mitchell Roark, unclaimed, has been brought to train among us and learn to survive the perils of life as a demigod!"

There was scattered cheers and applause, before Chiron once again clapped.

"Let us hope he survives his first year!" Even louder cheers and applause. "Now, to the campfire, to sing songs as is tradition!"

Everywhere gave thunderous approval with hands, feet and yells. As one tidal wave, the campers surged down to the beach, myself getting caught in the crowd.

The rest of the night was a blur of off-key singing, flames of changing colors, and the boom of pounding feet.

I don't remember when I made it back to the cabin, only that it was late and as soon as I saw my bed roll I collapsed, cuddling my sword to chest and wondering briefly if, when I woke up, this all would be a dream.

I really hoped it wasn't a dream.

Speaking of dreams, it seemed I was fated to have yet another startlingly realistic vision. I had the sneaking suspicion that this would become a normal occurrence.

I wasn't in New York this time. I was standing over camp, and by over, I mean several hundred feet in the air. I screamed, very loudly, hollering like an idiot before I realized I wasn't falling. I was floating. Not plummeting to my death.

"Quit being a girl," I muttered to myself. Behind me, the ever sweet chuckling of Phusis sounded like a bell behind me, and I turned to find her standing before me in all her trancediant beauty.

"Don't be frightened so, my child. I simply wished to speak with you." Her gentle voice soothed any of my last tingling nerves, and I felt completely at ease. Her presence made me feel home.

"You are my mother, aren't you? I'm your child." I knew it before I asked, before she nodded, her gentle smile turning regretful. I started to feel something else bubble inside me, a slight stirring that made me feel sick. Resentment.

"Why did you never tell me before," I asked in a whisper, staring st my feet. I could feel tears begin to prick at my eyes, ten-years of wondering and loneliness brought to the forefront.

Ten years, and I now knew my mother. A goddess. I was angry.

"My sweet child..." Phusis began, "I have watched you, only partly conscious, but always observant and guiding. I tried to let you know of my presence, small occurrences that alerted you to me. I should have known you wouldn't recognize them. It was a desperate hope of a helpless mother." Her words wavered at the end, and the regret seeped into her voice and trailed down her cheeks in tears.

I wanted to hug her and scream at her at the same time. I settled on watching her, as though she might explode any moment.

"I saw your loneliness, and sent my servants to comfort you. I noticed your bully, and struck against her as often as she wronged you. What you thought were hallucinations was me, bending nature to my will. I tried to be there for you, and yet I knew then and now it would never be enough. It will never have been enough." A thought occurred to me suddenly.

"The cactus, that came alive when Mrs. Celaeno attacked me...was that you as well?" Her had tilted to the side, her soft hazel eyes regarding me.

"No, Mitchell. That was you who took control of nature to your bidding. It was your own power that saved you." I thought I could detect a hint of pride in her voice.

I was at a loss, and despite my anger, I was still slightly grateful that I knew her at all. The fact she had tried softened my anger and resentment, and now I could feel only...I didn't know.

I only knew that the tears I had held back poured down, and as arms enveloped me in a warm embrace, my dream faded to nothing.

* * *

Thabk you again for reading this far, and I hope you enjoyed the slower pace in starting! Please feel free to tell me yours thoughts, criticisms and suggestions through private messaging or review!

Once again, please Follow Favorite and Review! Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6: Camp Life with Sharp Things

Hey guys, sorry for the late update. Not really, my story, I do what I want, but still.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

When I woke up I nearly lost an eye.

My new toy was point to eyebrow, threatening to gouge it out if I cuddled it any tighter. Slowly, I withdrew from my compacted bedroll, carefully stepping between what precious spaces of clear footing I saw to reach the door.

I stumbled multiple times along the way, tiredly rubbing my eyes and wishing to any god awake at this hour to claim some darn children already. An older camper had taken position in front of the door for lack of space, and I spent a couple moments wondering how I'd be able to get out.

I nudged him with my foot and tugged at his shoulder, and when he didn't budge, I yanked the knob as far as I could. The impact hit the unsuspecting teenager in the head, and I took the chance to slip out while he cursed at me.

*Whew*, I breathed out in exasperation. Even going to the bathroom was a challenge here.

"Where did Klove say the outhouse was?"

It took me 15 minutes to find my way, resisting the urge to run to the nearest bush. Klove had mentioned that nymphs lived in the trees around camp, so I decided against it.

What if I peed on a nymph? That'd be really bad.

With luck, I found the bathroom, which I desperately needed by that point.

I walked out just in time for a horn to sound throughout the camp, followed by the morning bustle of campers waking up. I suppose I got up really early. Call of the wild, as they say~

Making my way back to the Hermes' cabin, another of the cabins caught my attention. It was farther down the row, with a few campers coming to and fro in their morning routine.

What caught my eye was the exterior of the cabin, which was entirely covered in plant-life. It looked as though mother nature had thrown up over it, really. Out front was a beautiful, diverse garden full of a wide assortment of colorful flowers.

I didn't recognize a single one of them. Did that flower have teeth? Why was it grinning at me?

Shaking my head, I hurried back to my 'bunk'. I figured I'd keep following Luke around till I got used to the place, which I didn't think would happen anytime soon.

Apparently part of the morning routine was cabin inspection. As it turned out, no one in Hermes especially cared, and neither did Luke. The cabin counselor. A.k.a, inspector.

With that disregarded, he sent everyone to breakfast, though he took me on a short detour to borrow a change of clothes from the Camp's shop. I now spotted a fresh pair of baggy jeans five sizes too large, held up by a corded belt, and a bright orange t-short with 'Camp Half-Blood' across the front.

By the time I was sat in-between Luke and Tracy at the Breakfast table, I was feeling way more comfortable than yesterday. I still felt like any moment everyone would jump up and yell "DUPED YOU", but right now I was happy to live out the fantasy.

Even if that fantasy included monstrous bird people and violence-crazed teenagers sired by gods.

Finishing up, Chiron stomped his hooves upon the ground, garnering everyone's attention.

"As everyone is aware," he boomed, "today is Capture the Flag, which will be held at the usual time following lunch." I looked at Luke with total confusion, to which he whispered "I'll explain after he's done." I nodded, looking back to Chiron.

"The team captains," he continued, "will be Athena for the blue team, and Ares for the red." The mentioned groups cheered as they were called, pounding the table and jeering at the other. "You have already picked your teams, so I will leave the rest to you. The usual rules apply; no killing or intentional maiming." Grumbles were heard at this, and I looked around wildly at the disappointed faces of the Ares campers.

Did they actually WANT to kill people?

"Until then, normal classes and lessons for everyone. Lastly, the wood nymphs have asked me to remind everyone to please, for the last time, stop picking the leaves off their branches. It's rude." With that, he cantered off towards the archery range, followed closely by the Apollo campers.

I turned to dispose of my plate, only to scream and fall from the bench.

Right in front of me, scooping up everyone's plates, we're a group of three of those evil chicken ladies!

"Murder turkeys!" I yelled out, scrambling back frantically.

It took me a couple of seconds to realize that the campers around me weren't furiously rushing forward with weapons to eliminate the threat. Nope.

They were all laughing the butts off. At me. While the evil chicken ladies chirped excitedly at me and continued collecting silverware.

Luke jerked me up by the shoulder, chuckling himself but trying hard to stifle it for my sake. Sighing, he patted my shoulder, telling me that the harpies in camp were like the camp attendants.

I didn't believe him, but I decided to go along with it. For now. I glared a final time at the feathery hags, then followed Luke as Tracy towards the stables.

Thinking about the Pegasi made me immediately forget about the harpies, and I spent the next hour grooming, feeding and learning to ride from Tracy in total bliss.

Luke also took the time to fill me in on Capture the Flag that night. He explained that Athena was teamed with Hermes and Apollo, while Ares had an alliance with Hephaestus, Aphrodite, and Demeter. We were going to be outnumbered, but Luke assured me that Annabeth's planning would even us out.

One Pegasi in particular seemed to take an interest in me, a beautiful chestnut mare. Tracy told me she was called Hershey, but I had secretly nicknamed her "Winfrey."

Yes, like Oprah Winfrey. It was the only channel we had on the tv at the orphanage, so...yeah. Shut up.

At one point, while we were all cleaning out the stables, Travis and Connor had decided to make their move.

While I cleaned Winfrey's stall, I was suddenly assaulted from above by a couples buckets worth of manure, splashing all over me, Winfrey, and, unfortunately for the twins, Tracy.

Needless to say they very deeply regretted their actions. After a quick trip the the showers and another thorough grooming for my new Pegasi friend, the Hermes' troupe split up. One group went to the archery range, which I was in. The other headed off for the lava wall. Because what better way to wake up than excruciating death.

The archery instructor was from Apollo's cabin, as Chiron was busy in the Big House. Will Solace, as he introduced himself, focused on giving me tips and guides for the majority of the time. Very quickly, however, we all realized I was not suited- no, I was FORBIDDEN from touching a bow as long as I lived.

The string snapped on my first bow, the second sprung out of my hands, and my next attempt ended with an arrow being lodged between Will's toes.

I sat and observed the rest of the time, sulking. That was three major embarrassments, all before noon. I was starting to feel like a joke.

Tracy propped down next to me, ignoring Will's reprimand for abandoning practice.

"Something up, newbie?" She asked casually, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

"No", I grumbled, pulling my knees to chest, burrowing my face in my arms.

"Nuh-uh," the older camper chided as she pulled me off balance toward her. "I ain't going anywhere till you quit acting emo on me. The morning hasn't been that bad, right? I mean, at worst, you'll only be known as the bird-phobic arrow hazard newbie that smells like horse poop.

I groaned while she laughed, but inside I felt better. Her cheer was infectious. I grinned despite my effort, which she noticed and smiled wider.

"Come on, we're going to lunch soon. Then it's the arena. Luke and I can show you how to use that sword."

Lunch came and went without further complication, and soon I was standing across from Luke in the spacious arena. My arms struggled to hold my falcata up, though it still dipped slightly towards the ground.

"You'll get stronger the more you practice with it," Cabin Head reassured me, "but for now just try and mimic what I do." He showed me a few different drills with his own unique sword, the blade two different tones from blended metals.

It was very difficult, even if they were basic drills, and by the end my arms felt so sore they were almost numb. I was drenched in sweat as well, but Luke didn't even seem winded.

"That's enough for today," he called, walking towards me. "Let's get you cleaned up for lunch, huh?" Nodding breathlessly, I stumbled along to the showers for a second time that morning.

Along the way I was briefly delayed by that girl from yesterday, Annabeth. I didn't remember her last name.

"Have you seen Luke around?" She asked. "Were supposed to be meeting Chiron at the Big House soon." I shrugged, and she eyed me a bit longer than was necessary, I thought, before grunting and striding off.

"Good talk, as always," I mumbled, before resuming my mission.

Refreshed and not smelling like the orphanage upstairs bathroom(think sewer, but the water is stagnate), I made for the pavilion for lunch.

"Yo Mitch, wait up!" I looked to find Klove jogging over, his furry goat legs on full display. "Sorry for abandoning you," he said sheepishly, rubbing his head, "I got caught up in some business at the Big House."

"It's okay," I said quickly, wondering what he might've been doing. Obviously, he was with Chiron, but I was curious about what they talked about. Probably me. That thought made me feel very nervous suddenly.

"Anyways," Klove exclaimed, "let's get you suited up for the game!"

He led me by the scruff of my shirt to the armory, where I was fitted with a slightly too-small leather breastplate and some rugged arm and leg guards. Lastly, I was adorned with an oversized helmet, a brilliant blue plume decorating it.

I felt ridiculous, but Klove convinced me I was better off than without. He also cautioned I use a shield, but if I did I wouldn't be able to use my sword. I needed both hands for it still.

Soon enough, both teams were assembled before Chiron at the edge of the forest. To my right, Luke was whispering last minute strategy to Annabeth. Tracy on my left was reminding me to stick close to her. We were both assigned to flag guarding duty.

After a quick reminder of the rules, or lack thereof, the conch horn was blown and red and blue dashed off into the trees toward their respective starting places.

Once there, another horn blew to begin the game. I watched as all but five of us raced away to carry out their tasks. Myself, Tracy, a guy from Apollo and two Athena campers, a guy and girl, set up a perimeter around the Flag. It sat upon a cluster of rocks that rose from the ground, almost like a fist.

Annabeth said it was called Zeus' fist. Go figure.

The Apollo dude, Oliver, I remembered, stood ready with his bow, peering through the foliage. Travis and Valerie, the Athena campers, hefted shields along with a spear and gladius respectively. Tracy had her own twin daggers, and I struggled with my Flacata, letting it's tip rest in the dirt for now.

For awhile, everything was quiet, save for the occasional pained scream or victory cry from far off. It was only as I began to wonder if I'd see any action at all, a good half hour or so in, that the bushes closest to Oliver parted to reveal a group of charging reds, seven in total.

Taken by surprise, Oliver was too slow to stop the fist that crunched against his helm, sending him sprawling. Travis, Valerie and Tracy rushed to attack.

I stood there for several moments, panicked, watching as my teammates tried in vain to repel the larger group. During my indecision, Travis was able to shield-bash an assailant our of commission, but was caught off guard by a fierce strike to the chest.

He collapsed with a pained gasp, clutching his dented armor.

Snapping out of my daze, I yelled as I ran to help my outnumbered friends.

I swing clumsily at the closest enemy, a much bigger girl whose face would have been beautiful if she wasn't currently snarling at me. She caught my blow with her shield, unbalancing me and stabbing forward with her own sword.

I fell backwards, barely avoiding impalement, then desperately rolled to the side as she stomped where my head had just been.

"You shouldn't try and be brave, newbie. You'll just get stomped into the dirt," She snarled.

Back on my feet, I swung low with both hands, and managed to power through her hasty sword-block, swiping her leg out from under her. I pressed my advantage with a panic-fueled blow to the head with the butt of my sword.

"I'm not the one in the dirt," I taunted, my chest swelling with self pride.

She groaned, not knocked out but dazed, and I turned to see that Tracy and Valerie were somehow managing to fend off the remains three reds, having dealt with another during my own fight. Both were covered in scrapes and bruises for their efforts.

Shakily, I joined them, swinging at whoever took a step forward. Tracy shot me a wide smile, silently congratulating me on my own little victory. I smiled back, then immediately regretted my distraction as a spear jabbed at my head. Tracy pulled me to the side, blue strands from my helm falling to the ground.

Another jab, this time aimed at Tracy's shoulder was interrupted by her own quick reflexes. She grabbed the shaft, jerking it away from the owner and tossing it behind her.

"No more stabbing for you," she quipped, parrying a strike with her daggers.

"VICTORY FOR BLUE TEAM!" Erupted a chorus of voices to our right as a group of our teammates came barreling through the woods. Luke was leading the charge with the red teams flags held in triumph overhead.

The blowing of the conch signaled victory, and cheers bellowed across the forest from the blues.

Tracy and I yelled alongside everyone else, congratulating Luke and taunting the sullen faced reds.

The girl I had fought earlier caught my eye as she supported herself against a tree, dragging her finger across her throat and glaring daggers at me. I gulped.

"Looks like I made a friend," Tracy shouted in my ear. I looked at her, smiling anxiously.

"I just got lucky," I said.

"Lucky or not, you did a good job. Let's go celebrate!"

Luke led the victory march to dinner, and I felt like a hero for the rest of the night.


	7. Chapter 7 Bullies and Corn Goddesses

Hey, sorry for the late update. I've been trying to work on it while dealing with my own life, but here it is. Not much is going to happen here, at least plot-wise.

Enjoy!

* * *

As it turns out, hero's are kinda generic at Camp Everyone Is Half God.

My new Ares friend from Capture the Flag taught me that lesson, along with a few of her friends.

Started like this.

Almost a week after the games, I had been on the way back from a late night bathroom trip. It had become a bit of a habitual event.

I'd wake up surrounded by snoring half-bloods, trip over literally everything and everyone, then take a relaxing walk thru the woods. I felt most relaxed when surrounded by nature, it almost helped me forget how I was in a monster-killing training camp for violently inclined god children.

And the wait staff were a bunch of harpies. Whose sister I killed. With cactuses.

Maybe it was harder to forget after all.

Still, I felt calm in the woods. Closer to her. My mother. Plus the nymphs were all really nice.

When I had first taken this trail, I had nearly fainted (no, I didn't scream) when a whole group of nymphs jumped from their trees to say hello.

Not proud of that moment, but hey, who would've been prepared for a horde of tree spirits to suddenly throw a surprise party. In the middle of the night. In a forest full of not nice beasties.

Anyways, they knew who my mother was, since she was like the original Mother Nature.

Now when I walk through the woods I like to say hi to my new friends.

Keeps me from feeling too jittery, nervous and overall panicky. Being in Camp Half-Blood, taking in the whole situation, especially after the ordeal at the orphanage, finding out about my mother...

It's a lot for a ten year old to process. So yeah, the trail was great.

Until the ares girl figured out about my night time stroll. Which brings me here, surrounded by big, grunting Ares campers with my friend at the head.

I wish I had stayed in my cramped bedroll.

"Well lookie here, a little un-claimed Demi-snot alone in the woods. Anything could happen..."

"Okay, that was just a little too creepy. Can't you just say you'll beat me up, instead of sounding like a serial killer?"

Seriously, why couldn't ANYTHING be normal here? Even bullies got a super juiced shot of insanity. On another note, there are a lot of bullies here, and I am taller than only zero of them.

"When were done with you," she started, walking forward while the circle enclosed, "you're gonna wish I had killed you."

"Okay, again with the cree-" was all I got out before a foot found my spine, and suddenly I knew that the mean girl's shoes needed replacing. Seriously, was frayed beyond saving a new style?

"Get him back up, I want to see his eyes."

They dragged me to my limp feet, forcing my face to look up to hers.

"Someone's gonna come," I say. They all chuckle, like on cue, but all I see is the impossibly white teeth of the girl who probably is going to bury me alive.

"Ya know, if you had just laid down and cried at the games, none of this would be happening. Instead you got lucky, but also very unlucky, cause now that little victory is going to cost you your hand."

Oh my god, she's gonna rip my hand off!

"Why not my little toe, I don't need that one!"

"Actually," a new voices, behind me, "you do. That little toe provides a lot of balance, you'd be all clumsy without it."

The silence is deafening, and I here feet shuffling.

"Mark," psycho girl again, "shut up. Seriously. Just...just shut up. We're gonna break his hand. Gods, why do I put up wi-"

Taking the moment of distraction as an opportunity, my head jolted up to meet her chin, hopefully biting her tongue.

She staggers back, and my thrashing earns me a swift punch to the stomach from another Ares camper.

Amid the string of curses(with lisps, score, got the tongue), the girl gains back her bearing and marches toward.

"Ouch," she growls.

"Hold out his arm!"

Despite my valiant struggling, I'm only one small god child, and their are many muscle heads both male and female with biceps bigger than my head. The forest is eerily silent around us, my nymph friends either sleeping or staying away.

They probably saw stuff like this a lot, it was murder camp after all.

"Hurry up Grace, before the harpies come back around," one urges.

Grace, who I realize is the leader, seemingly ignores him as she takes hold of my struggling hand.

"Don't worry," she says a little too sweetly, "you won't feel a thing."

Another perk of being a demigod is a supernatural sense for bull crap.

The force on my hand gradually increases in discomfort, until pain builds to a very fast approaching burst.

"Ow ow ow OW OW OW," I yell, before a shriek rings out. It wasn't from me, before you say anything.

Suddenly relieved of pressure, hands going slack around me, i take the chance to push away, falling in a heap as the group stares out into the oppressive darkness.

"Grace, what was that?" Mark says nervously.

"Shut up! Seriously, just shut up!"

Snap* Heads ship around to our left, into a clump of bushes and dense foliage.

Another *snap* echoes from the opposite direction, gasps and whimpers filling the small trail.

I peer into the darkness, body pressed as far into the ground as possible. In the not so distant distance, I spy a pair of glowing green eyes staring back at me. They seem to wink, before a small smile flashes at me.

Then the eyes and smile are gone, and the snapping of branches and rustles of the forest resume, in different places and growing ever closer.

"Uh guys, we should leave now."

Mark is smart, gotta hand it to him. Still a jerk, but hey, at least he was going places. Knew what a pinky toe did and everything.

The Ares kids begin moving slowly back down the trail, ready to turn and sprint for safety at the slightest provocation.

Unfortunately, well, for them, the forest didn't give them the chance.

As though the very forest came alive(technically, it is, but you get my point so shut it), the bullies were suddenly snatched from the ground in a flurry of limbs, branches and screams.

My new buddies streamed from the tree line, giggling and pointing in the midst of the startled voices of the Ares' kids.

One in particular, a red-haired nymph named Holly, came and helped me to my feet.

"Took you guys long enough," I said, only half-joking.

My arm was still slightly trembling from the anticipation of having it dislocated.

"We wanted to enjoy the show a bit longer, see you get all panicky," Holly teased. However, underneath her joking tone I could hear a slight hesitation.

"Uh-huh, sure, and what's the real reason?"

The nymph sighed heavily, shifting from place to place. Her bright yellow eyes looked uncertain.

"We were at a meeting. An important one."

An important meeting of tree spirits? What did they have to talk about?

"What was it about," I asked quickly, it giving her a chance to change the subject.

Curiosity killed the cat, but this was a war camp and I just got jumped by blood crazed half-gods.

"I-I can't tell you that, Mitch," she said, ignoring my protest against that nickname. "It's a secret, we're only supposed to tell Chiron if he asks. Or the satyr council."

What's a satyr council? Holly started walking back towards the cabins before I could ask.

"Hey, wait!"

When we broke from the tree line, the area kids were lined up before a very irate looking Chiron, as well as some hungrily staring harpies.

They all appeared very nervous as the centaur chewed them out, and I felt a sick satisfaction about that.

Then he turned my way, and that feeling immediately disappeared.

'Oh sh-'

"Mitchell Roarke! A word, now."

Very slowly, I tentatively approached, feet dragging as much as possible without tripping.

I turned for support from Holly, but she had vanished back into the woods.

"Uh-hem."

The ares campers had dispersed, leaving me to timidly stand before the towering Chiron as he stared into my very soul.

"You are our last curfew." I nodded to the ground.

"You could have been hurt. Or worse," He continued in a grave tone.

Once again, I nodded.

"I am glad you are safe," he finished, tone drastically changed from that of an angry father to concerned guardian.

My head snapped up to his, which was almost impossible, in surprise.

"What?" I couldn't stop the shock in my voice.

He nearly smiled, but seemed to think better of it and instead shook his head exasperatedly.

"Do not mistake me, I am very displeased you have broken curfew on apparently several nights." I winced at that. Obviously I wasn't as sneaky as I thought I was.

"However, this does not mean I would wish you harm. You are a valued child here, Mitchell. You belong here, and along with being your teacher, I am also your guardian."

I stared hard at the ground again, determined to not let him see my unshed tears.

"No more nightly excursions, Mitchell."

I nodded again, before turning towards the Hermes' cabin.

A hand on my shoulder stopped me suddenly, and in the next moment I found my face pressed into the strong leg of a horse, arms immediately wrapping around it.

I didn't cry. A lot. A drastic amount. Just a little.

Then the moment was over, and I was ushered to my bed.

As I tucked myself into my tiny slice of heaven, bundled into my sleeping bag with my sword clutches tighter than usual to my body, I felt something.

A sensation I had sorely missed without realizing it, but was now very much aware of how much, caressed my ears.

The whisper of a breath, and the sudden scent of a forest and fresh air calmed me to sleep.

I dreamt of a Goddess wreathed in flowers...

For about 5 seconds, before I realized 1) I wasn't dreaming, and 2) That was a goddess wreathed in flowers.

"What the-" I began, then started as a snore sounded next to me. "Mom?" I asked in a much lower voice.

She certainly looked as beautiful as Physis, but after another look I realized it wasn't. The goddess' response confirmed that for me.

"No, I am not your mother Demi-God, though I can sense your connection to me." Connection? "I am Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest."

"Sooo, corn?" I could swear her face morphed into something very angry for a split second immediately after that.

"No, not just corn. There is a lot more that can be harvested besides corn."

"Like what?" Her fists clenched, and an aura of power pulsed around her ethereal form. Her glowing auburn hair moved like tendrils.

Maybe I should stop asking her questions. A moment later, she sighed heavily and the glow along with her hair relaxed.

"Listen, boy, I will not be here long. I sensed the presence of a long forgotten being here, emanating from you." I gulped, remembering my mother's warning to keep my parentage quiet.

"What being?" I asked innocently. Her eyebrow raised in suspicion, and for a second I thought she might turn me into a stalk.

She didn't, thankfully.

"I will be keeping an eye on you, Mitchell Roarke. I will discover why you hold a piece of a Primordial inside you."

Wait, how the heck did she know that? Could Gods see inside peoples souls? I shuddered, I didn't like that thought. I did a lot of things as a little kid I don't want any immortals seeing.

Before I could ask even one question, Demeter's form began to glow blinding, and a sudden screaming instinct had me shutting my eyes.

When I opened them again, I was alone. Well, not even close to alone, but the goddess of corn was gone, and I was in the dark.

I don't know what usually happens when a Goddess visits a person, but I decided that at that moment all I wanted was to sleep for the rest of the week.

I drifted to the sounds of snoring and, right beside me, sleep-talk about the terrors of the lava wall.


End file.
